Forging the Blade
by PhoenixoftheClouds
Summary: The reason you joined the Dual Blades? HOW you joined? It's a long story but it started when you decided to run away from your house in the worst neighborhood in Kerning…


Wrote this as a plothole filler on how you came to join the Dual Blades because I seriously don't think you could just waltz in and join considering they're supposed to be a secret group and it's also a filler on why you were loyal enough to Lady Syl to drink poison when you've just joined the Dual Blades. Why such loyalty? And you seriously can't tell me you don't know what apple juice tastes like so an explanation for that too hahaha.

* * *

You were twelve when you decided to run away from your house.

Well why not? Living off of whatever the streets had to offer was nothing new to you even before you ran away. For people like you who lived in this side of Kerning, learning how to survive on the streets wasn't a mere recommendation; it was survival because not knowing meant ignorance and ignorance meant death in a million different ways. And that was what it all comes down to: survival and frankly, living out here gave you a better chance of survival than staying in the broken house accommodating the even more broken people inside of it, trying to avoid being crippled at the hands of those who birthed you yet never wanted you.

That's behind you now though. None of that matters.

What matters is your survival, to live to see another day. You wouldn't go so far as to say it was a war to live each day but it was certainly a struggle because you weren't the only run-away the city has ever seen nor would you be the last. The streets were filled with these kinds of kids along with all the other vagrants that straggle in the shadows of the dilapidated buildings and everybody here worth their salt knew how to be sly, how to be nimble, how to escape, how to sense impending traps, and how to be resourceful. The trick was to be even slyer, even nimbler, even quicker, even sharper, and even more resourceful than the rest.

You're still alive so you suppose you're doing something right but you still suffered. You suffered from hunger pangs that won't go away no matter how much you feed yourself with the meager scraps you can manage. You suffered injuries that sometimes left you wondering if this was it. You suffered from cold nights alone and days spent looking over your wary shoulder. You ache from the inside out; a hunger that ran deeper than the sinking of your stomach, deeper than you would like to admit.

But you don't think about all that because it didn't matter and you don't complain because doing so did nothing.

This was the life you chose for yourself and you refuse to regret it; not that your house had anything to regret leaving in the first place except maybe the assurance that there would always be at least a roof over your head.

You could never really stay in one spot and call it home. Does such a word even exist in your vocabulary anymore? Did it ever? It was simply too dangerous to stay in one location because enemies constantly dogged your footsteps. It was impossible not to make enemies and the few tentative allies you might make you trust as far as you can throw them.

There was no such thing as "friends," another term that never existed in your vocabulary. You know better than to ever apply this term on anybody. Being "friends" meant being bonded and trusting, both of which you can ill afford. Maybe if you somehow managed to get off the streets but you weren't going to deceive yourself with notions of a better life like Weehl. Kids on the streets usually stayed on the streets. It was all they knew. It was all they were.

But Weehl was a big dreamer with a big head. He wanted to meet the Dark Lord and become a Thief and finally stop living the life.

It was certainly an option. The Dark Lord had created the class of Thieves with the intent of helping people off the streets and towards a better life, to allow them to learn empathy and to expand their horizons and characters.

But you weren't noble characters. You weren't even nice. You were anything but. Empathy wasn't something you just spontaneously learned and you had too many worn years of sharp cynicism in your life and festering pains and a lifelong instinct to look after yourself and _only_ yourself embedded into you too deep for you to simply rip away.

You wanted to tell Weehl to stop dreaming and get on with reality. You disliked your situation as much as the next person but you weren't about to run through fantasy-land to satisfy the desire for an apparent death wish.

But what right do you have to tell him that? Weehl was nothing more than an acquaintance. What happens to him was none of your business. So you stay silent and let him keep talking.

"—nd it was so cool. Didja see?"

"Yes," you say wearily yet patiently, humoring your informant.

That seemed like the right response because Weehl looks pleased. "Hey whatcha doin' later tanight?"

"Resting," you reply curtly because obviously, what else would you be doing during such a dangerous time?

"Aw hey lighten up yeah? You always look like ya can use some fun."

You give Weehl a look that hints to only a fraction of the stupidity that just left his mouth. How can anyone possibly have any _fun_ here?

Weehl waves his hands in a pacifying gesture. "Jus' sayin' ya know. Don' look at me like dat."

You look away and ask, "Well?"

The informant sighs. "Dere's still a scuffle over at the northern part and Croc's still lookin' for ya but he's havin' problems wit' Q near da Ring so ya might not wanna go dere for a while."

You nod. "Okay."

"Geezus I've seen rocks dat're friendlier dan ya," Weehl says dryly. "Boy I jus' can't wait ta beat it outta here."

"Then why don't you," you challenge because you want to know why, if he is so determined, he isn't gone already for Thief training.

"Cuz I'm bidin' my time!"

You snort softly at the pathetic answer. What was there to bide for? What time was there to bide? He could be dead tomorrow. If he wasn't going to do this now, he might as well never do this. He had the choice. Why was he wasting it away? What kind of pitiful excuse was that? If it were up to you, you'd have done it already because choice was the last thing that belonged to you.

Not your smarts.

Not your fight.

Not even your own life is yours anymore.

All that belonged to the whims of the city and what each day brought. But your choice is firmly your own and it will _always_ be your own. You will always have a choice and it will never belong to anybody, not even if they brought a gun to your head. You'd be damned if you let something as pitiful as fear stop you from making the choice you want and that was exactly what was stopping Weehl.

It was sad because what is there to fear? Nothing but the future and being parted from the familiarity of your life no matter how wretched it may be. And that was what kept people from making Thieves: The uncertainty.

The uncertainty of leaving behind the inner workings you knew so intimately for a bigger world that's impossible to grasp all at once.

The uncertainty of what lay beyond.

The uncertainty of where it may lead and the promise that things can never return as they were once you leave.

It was pathetic. It was ridiculous. It was stupid.

How _weak_.

So what was there to fear? What indeed?

Kids on the streets usually stayed on the streets. _It was all they knew. It was all they were._

o-O-o

It was a few weeks later when you find out Weehl was dead.

No surprises there.

He was a dreamer and an indecisive one to boot. It was bound to happen. If he had gone with his decision, he wouldn't have ended up dying a sorry death in the smelly, filthy gutters of the worst neighborhood in the city at the hands of a displeased lout out looking for trouble.

It was such a random death too. No provocation, no warning.

You sigh.

Looks like you'll have to find another informant.

Weehl's passing was a shame really. He was a pretty good intelligence gatherer all things considered but his death was his own fault. He didn't have your sympathy because he had his choice and he chose to squander it sitting around.

_A small part of you wonders what_ you're _doing then._

But still, you weren't completely heartless. Weehl was an ally you knew and you were still human as you are oh so aware through your own fragile mortality. Even if you kept people at arm's length, it was neigh on impossible not to feel _something_ even if it was just a dribble of pity.

So you sit out for the day, watching the sunset Kerning City was so famous for on top of one of the buildings, watching the yellow orb wash the city in muted warm colors as it made way for night to come once again.

And the world moves on even if you're not.

A shuffle behind you alerts you to someone else's presence and you quickly turn to see a man in a white outfit with two sheathed katanas.

You immediately tense and you eye the newcomer warily.

"Relax, I'm not here to fight," the man drawls from under his damaged bamboo hat.

You take his words with a grain of salt however and you continue to watch the strange man carefully.

He puts up his hands as a sign of peace and says, "Really. I'm just here to talk."

Talk? If this man had come up here specifically just to talk to you it means that he knows you and not only does he know you but he can also track you. Neither foretells good news and you get ready to jump down onto the roof of the lower building squashed next to your current one when the man adds, "I knew Weehl. I used to relate information and hang out with him."

That stops you and you pause, considering the person before you who claims to know Weehl.

The man wore neat clothes, the white unstained with even a spot of gray, something that says he isn't the typical rogue living on the streets and you also notice the distinctive lack of a street accent many others have acquired. His demeanor was relatively relaxed and even his gaze looks a little lazy. It doesn't match with the silent feel of danger looming the streets. Definitely not someone from this neighborhood then if he could act so laidback here and considering how no one in their right mind would slouch down this part of the city of their own free will, you'd say he's probably not a very bright individual. Either that or he's a really good fighter. It was hard to gauge which, however, because despite the obvious appearance, it was surprisingly hard to read this man.

You frown at the out-of-place stranger but you make no further indication of leaving. Still, you're ready to escape at a moment's notice because anyone could claim they knew Weehl and this odd person clashing with the atmosphere of this dismal neighborhood was an unknown who could spell anything for you and you didn't like that.

The man takes the silence as the go-ahead to continue.

"Name's Ryden and I'm here wondering if you'd be interested if I became your informant."

You glare at the stranger who's apparently named Ryden. "And you think that I'd just casually accept your offer just because you knew Weehl?" you hiss, all the more suspicious of Ryden for approaching you for something like that because it meant he wanted something from you.

"Well no," he replies, shrugging. "This is probably pretty shady to you so I'll lay it down bare. In exchange for the information I supply, I just simply want you to consider joining up with my group."

You eye Ryden distastefully, feeling the familiar ire well within you. You knew that old tactic. Soon the guy is going to try to work his way under your good graces as he feigns "friendly" conversation as he relays his information until one day you find that you feel in good company with this guy and decide to join up his gang from which you'd be hard-pressed to escape from if it isn't a trap first. You hated the mockery of camaraderie they attempt to deceive you with because no one really gives a damn about you despite it all. The moment the shit hits the fan, they'll be the first to bolt and leave you behind as the scapegoat and if there's one thing you hate, it was betrayal.

"Hey now just hear me out. We're not just a random bunch of hoodlums. What I'm proposing is for you to join the Dual Blades." Ryden's eyes flash in the span it takes to blink as he said the name of his group before they returned to their usual droopy look.

You purse your lips and say tightly, "No and that's final. This conversation is over." You start to slip over the railings.

"Ah but if you ever change your mind, find me in here," Ryden continues, unfazed, tossing a small, cylindrical object towards you.

You catch it reflexively and glance down your hand.

It was what looked to be a rolled up miniature scroll probably with directions written on it. You clench it in your fist and have half a mind to throw it away when Ryden interrupts you.

"Now don't be so hasty. Just think it over. It wouldn't hurt for you to keep it just in case. Remember, I'm not part of this neighborhood so we're nothing like the gangs down there. We're more… sophisticated than that."

You wonder how Ryden could read you so easily. It makes you slightly edgy and you itch to leave right this moment.

So you do.

o-O-o

You spend the next few days mulling over the small piece of paper.

At first you had been determined to forget about the whole incident and just go on with your life but the weight of the little scroll in your pocket wouldn't let you.

Why Ryden would want _you_ to join out of all the hundreds of other better-off people in the city was cause enough for you to disregard the whole encounter completely but as dubious as the whole thing is, you find yourself curious.

What exactly made this group different from all the rest?

A week later, the opportunity to ask the man himself presents itself to you.

You find Ryden leaning against the crumbling brick wall of the building you and Weehl used to meet up in front of looking for all the world like a bored juvie at a detention center.

Upon spotting you, he smiles and waves at you and you contemplate whether you should approach him or turn around right now and walk away.

In the end, you decide to trudge your way over to his side and stand there, staring at him expectantly.

"Why are you here?" you ask blandly.

"Fulfilling my part of the deal," he replies easily, shifting a bit so his swords rested more comfortably against him. Your eyes instantly rivets to the movement before sliding back up to meet with Ryden's amused eyes when it was apparent he wasn't about to draw them. "I did promise to give you information in exchange for your consideration."

You nod slowly but you continue to look distrustfully at Ryden. "And why should I trust anything you give me?"

Ryden simply shakes his head. "Well, you don't have to trust me. You can just listen and decide for yourself."

You suppose. It wasn't like you had only a single source of information. You had tools such as eavesdropping and other informants to tell you about the city's current events and movements. You'll know whether the story corroborates.

"… What can you tell me?" and Ryden starts to relate everything he seems to know about the situations in various parts of the neighborhood.

For someone not from this part of the city, he's awfully knowledgeable about its internal affairs but you suppose it comes with being an informant, no matter where you're from.

At the end of his spiel, Ryden tops it all off with, "So, have you been upholding your end of the bargain?"

Caught slightly off guard at the sudden question, it takes you a few moments before you can utter the reluctant affirmative.

Ryden nods in satisfaction. "Anytime you need me, I'll be right here."

You suppose now would be a good time to ask.

"What makes you think you're so special from everyone else?"

"Me? Or the Dual Blades?"

"The Dual Blades."

Ryden's lips quirk into a small smile. "We… fight for what's right," he answers vaguely. "We help those in need… and we never turn our backs on each other. It's our code, our unwritten rule."

You almost want to snort. Such noble sentiments were dead to you and you still don't see what's so unique about that. The Thieves do all of the same things and this guy could be sugarcoating it or lying outright for all you know.

Ryden puts a hand on your shoulder and you look at the uninvited touch with an openly hostile expression but the man isn't swayed in the least.

"I want to show you something."

He turns and starts walking away, leaving you with the option to either follow suit or not.

You still didn't entirely trust this man but you have to give him credit. He certainly knew his way around you without outright pushing and so far, he hasn't shown any signs of enmity, or at least not outwardly.

He could still be leading you into a trap but you're too cautious for that. He should know that you wouldn't fall for anything at this point because your distrust in him is too obvious.

Overall, it seems unlikely that Ryden is trying to pull something on you so you follow albeit carefully and attentively.

You follow the man through the maze of concrete, brick, and metal until you come upon a fenced-in area that might have been a basketball court once upon a time but has since then been overgrown with opportunistic weeds pushing upwards from the multitude of cracks littering the area. Large slabs of marigold light peeks in from behind a few rigid structures of distant buildings, alighting upon the abandoned space.

You both duck under a large hole cut into the side of the wire fence and stand in the middle of the sunset-drenched court, long purple shadows trailing behind you like a silent follower.

"Okay you might want to stand back a bit," Ryden says.

Puzzled, you do as he asks because a place like this provides no cover for any potential ambushes and you can easily escape if he tries anything.

When you were a good ten feet away, Ryden nods and turns to the side and you immediately tense when he slowly draws his blades out with a sharp hiss but he makes no move towards you.

Instead, he continues to stare off into the far end of the basketball court, his gleaming, silver katanas gripped tightly in his hands.

He falls into a ready stance, movements deliberate, and for a moment, there was nothing except the faint, cool breeze of the coming evening.

Like a viper, he strikes.

He twirls his blades in an elaborate dance of deadly force and dazzling display. His moves flowed and melted into one another like a meandering river with an elegance of a graceful bird, every shift swift and deft.

His aims were precise and lethal, his concentration trained solely towards an invisible opponent on an imagined plane as he ducks and dodges fluidly the unseen enemy's calculated attacks before countering in kind.

In the light of the dying sun, his agile figure was striking.

It was rather amazing.

But he stops after a while, sheathing his katanas again and thus announcing the end of his display.

For a moment, you can only stare at him, unsure what to make of such an incredible show. You have never seen anything like it before.

The moves were too smooth, too graceful, and too refined to be learned from the streets yet the style was distinctive from any of the Thieves' techniques.

"Where did you learn that?" was the first thing you can manage to think of asking, your mind filled with so many questions that it blanked.

Ryden grins broadly, pride clearly shining through. "The Dual Blades. I told you we weren't hoodlums."

You had to concede to that. Maybe he isn't one of the city's local thugs. Ryden was clearly trained by someone who couldn't have grown up from the slums where people couldn't care less if their sloppy self-taught moves were graceful so long as it did the job.

But then you frown when you remember that Ryden was trying to recruit you into the so-called Dual Blades and again, the question of why he would want _you _of all people pops up.

"Okay then. Maybe you're not. But why me?"

Ryden dips his head in what you guess was supposed to be a mysterious way so that his hat conceals most of his features except for a knowing smile and replies, "Because I feel like you've got great potential but for what remains to be seen. I'm just hoping it's for what I hope it's for. Make no mistake; I'm not going to force you into anything. Whether you join or not… is of your own free choice. I've given you the means. Now it's all up to you."

He's right of course. Even if Ryden had tried to use force to get you to join the Dual Blades, he would almost definitely fail because if you didn't want to, you wouldn't let him force you.

And you still didn't want to.

You'll admit, Ryden's moves were inspiring, poetic even, and he had convinced you that he wasn't a common thug but at the end of the day, you were still an unrefined street urchin whose values clashed painfully with the Dual Blades' own apparent gallant ideals.

You thrived in your selfishness. It was what you needed to survive and at this point, it probably wasn't even possible to remove such ingrained instinct.

Honor and virtue was for those who could afford it, for the idealistic people who never had to fight over resources and territory a day in their lives, not for people like you who had long ago seen where idealism and honor and chivalry leads you.

You scowl up at Ryden. "Fancy moves does not a good person make. I still refuse."

The man shrugs. "Okay then but I just want to ask something."

"What?"

"You have the opportunity to move along into something greater so then why do you still stay?"

"You think it's as simple as that?" you ask bitterly. You spread your hands in front of you, revealing the numerous jagged scars and cuts, some long enough to extend all the way to your elbow. "My life here has taught me lessons that I can't disregard simply by joining some self-sacrificing group. I may hate it here but it's what I am. I can't throw it all away just because you showed me some showy swordsmanship to get me to come with you to a place that's all nice and sunny when all my life I've been doing nothing but helping myself in order to survive."

Ryden doesn't say anything for a few moments before he utters quietly, "I see."

You think you hear some sympathy in his voice but that only makes you angrier because no, he doesn't see.

"I'm leaving," you push out from between clenched teeth and you spin around sharply before swiftly making your exit.

o-O-o

You don't go to Ryden again despite the fact the informant was a very good one. In fact, you go out of your way to avoid the meeting place in favor of your other informants who you have already deemed relatively reliable.

Ryden doesn't appear in front of you again and for that you're silently thankful.

It wasn't that you hated him. He seemed like a pretty decent individual in fact but your last conversation with him still bites.

What could he know? The fear, the cold nights, the despair, life's battering, the things that could have shred any other person apart; everything you have endured with never-ending patience and tenacity to be rewarded with what? Another tomorrow.

You don't try to look for something like a meaning in life to live that tomorrow though. That idea was abstract at best and a complete hindrance at worst. This was probably something a high-end intellectual might have trouble grasping but you didn't _need_ to make something of yourself.

Your place was here and that was all you needed to know.

This was your way of life.

This was all you knew.

This was all you were.

The weight in your pocket feels heavy.

Perhaps if you were the poetic type, you'd equate it to how the decision it represents will weigh just as heavily if not more so.

You stand by the gutter, staring down at the little scroll in your hand and the warped sewer grill beneath.

If you were going to forget about Ryden and the Dual Blades, you better do it in a way that was permanent. This little cylinder will only distract and hinder you later on.

You stare at it.

You haven't opened it once since you've gotten it. You haven't even taken it out of your pocket really so this was the first time you're really examining it.

It was green with thin ribbons of red at the edges, faint inlaid swirling designs decorating the roll of paper.

Your eyes follow the design, slightly mesmerized with its curving patterns of twists and turns. This was probably the fanciest thing you have ever owned in your life. And you were about to throw it down the gutter.

You hesitate.

A force compels you to still your hand, the same force that compelled you to keep the scroll for so long in the first place.

Uncertainty.

The same feeling you had shunned Weehl for because it stopped him from doing what he set out to do.

The same feeling that ran through you.

You look at the rancid gutter.

Weehl had died in the gutter never fulfilling what he had decided he wanted, held back by the puppet strings gripped firmly by fear.

Will the same thing happen to you?

You have convinced yourself you can never go further than the boundaries of this neighborhood because this was you. And it is.

But will you scoff at yourself the same way you scoffed at Weehl's death when you find yourself dying the same way he had because of that excuse?

Yes, yes you will.

You prized choice because you wanted to feel no regrets, because it was the last thing that was yours.

You clench your hand into a fist.

o-O-o

You come upon the place one rainy day.

You pause before the building, letting the icy rain pelt against your unprotected body, inspecting it in what lighting you could before deciding it was the right place and moving on.

The hallway inside was dim but nevertheless, you can see the familiar slouched form of Ryden in the distance further down and you make your way over.

Ryden watches as you approach with an easy smile plastered on his face but again, his lax expression was unreadable.

When you finally stand in front of him the lights suddenly flare to life and Ryden raises a brow, signifying that he might not have expected you to come at all but other than that, you see no other reaction at your sudden appearance. "You're kind of an oddball, aren't you? Choosing to become a Dual Blade…" he trails off.

_When you were so adamant about keeping your way of life._

But you didn't join because you wanted to be some kind of hero.

You didn't join because you had some hidden desire deep within your soul for a warm fluffy family.

You didn't join because you suddenly decided you needed new meaning in your life.

You joined because you want to and because you can, because this was your choice.

Ryden shakes his head seemingly in amusement. "Whelps, we'd better get you started."

And he starts explaining the basics of the Dual Blades before ushering you to a portly man with spiked dark brown hair named Shiba saying playfully, "I hate to say this, but your arms look a little scrawny. How about you go get yourself some training? We have a guy who specializes in getting chicken-limbs like you up to speed."

Shiba correctly assumes that you've never fought a monster before but he has incorrectly assumed that you have never fought before in your life.

The Snails were easy and so were the subsequent monsters.

All the while Shiba makes jabs at your apparent slowness but you don't pay it any attention. You know you were new. You'll get better with time.

"Slow. Much, much too slow. Like a wilting leaf… Are you sure you have what it takes to learn to dual-wield?"

He inspects your impassive face because yes, you are sure you have what it takes otherwise you wouldn't be here.

His thick brows furrow in intrigue. "My insults slide like rain off your back…" he mumbles before calling out in a much louder voice, "Hey, Ryden! What's with the new recruit?"

Ryden appears next to Shiba in a blink of an eye and examines you as well with his droopy eyes and wide lazy grin that looked wider than usual. If you didn't know any better, you'd say he was proud.

"How interesting. New recruit, you didn't even bat an eyelash at Shiba's insults…" Ryden states in a way that tells you he's not very surprised.

He shouldn't be. You've been called worse before.

"It was all a setup, you see. We wanted to see how you would react. You did quite well. You have a knack for our Dual Blade ways."

As, you were sure, he always knew.

"I recommend you for the special mission! I can't tell you what kind of mission it is. That's up to Lady Syl, _if_ she agrees that you're worthy. If not, you'll train the same way as everyone else. So, try not to tick Lady Syl off. When you accept, I'll send you to Lady Syl."

You nod your consent and Ryden takes you to another part of the building, stopping in front of one of the entryways.

He enters first after gesturing for you to stay in the hall, comes back out a few minutes later, and beckons you to go in.

You enter alone and meet the leader of the Dual Blades.

She was rather pretty and her frame seemed somewhat delicate but underneath that, you can sense a poised dignity within her. It was obvious in the way she held herself and it was all the more apparent when she begins to speak.

Her stern voice was serene yet it carried through the room with firm authority weaved within her tones, lilting passionately only as she started to talk about the Dark Lord and her father before returning to their calm dulcets at the end.

You find Lady Syl agrees rather favorably with you. You would not follow a leader who could not keep their head even when talking about something as deeply personal as this.

You accept her mission before she sends you away for more training.

You meet up with Ryden in the hallway who then proceeds to send you through three training courses you complete fairly easily.

Trotting out of the final room from which you had just defeated Mano the giant snail, Ryden greets you with a playful pitying sigh and says mock wistfully while ruefully shaking his head, "Poor Mano. Every day, someone new beats him up. Now," he perks up and claps his hands together sharply. "For your final test!"

Suddenly, his gaze turns intense, narrowed seriously upon you. You are almost surprised Ryden was capable of such a look but then again, you always knew he had something hidden within him despite his laidback manner after all, wasn't this similar to the look he wore when he had been fighting his imaginary opponent? But his lackadaisical attitude made it easy to forget he was capable of such ferocity.

But you aren't unsettled. You stare right back into Ryden's eyes and listen as he speaks.

"This," he says in a low, solemn voice, "is the ultimate test… It is a test of loyalty. Will you do what we ask, whenever we ask it? Are you truly loyal? If so, I have something I want you to drink."

From the folds of his clothes, he takes out a small vial filled with an amber liquid and you get a feeling of where this might be going.

"What is it, you wonder? I shall tell you. It's poison! That's right, Lady Syl wants someone loyal enough to swallow poison at her command. Are _you _that someone? The moment you agree that you are, I will force this poison down your throat, so be prepared…"

You eye the innocent little vial of poison.

This was what it all comes down to.

To you, it was more than a test of loyalty for Lady Syl. It was a test of loyalty towards your decision. Were you willing to die for your choice? Will you regret walking down this road? Should you turn back now?

All these questions coagulated into the form of this single vial of poison.

But Weehl had died in the gutters. You won't go the same way.

You take a breath before you nod and Ryden pops the top off the container, grabs you, and pours the entire contents down your mouth in one fell swoop.

You cough as some of the liquid makes its way down the wrong windpipe.

You decide that it was sweet for a poison.

Ryden takes a step back wearing a comical expression of a mixture of exaggerated shock and amusement.

"Ah, look at the effect of that poison! You're turning purple already. How delightful! Unfortunately, I don't have the antidote. For that, you'll have to speak to Lady Syl. You might want to do it sooner rather than later."

You frown. You don't feel any different. In fact you'll say that that liquid had no effect on you whatsoever and you doubt you're turning purple but you go see Lady Syl anyway just in case.

As you make your way up, the weight of what you've just committed yourself to slowly sets upon you and it was enough to make you feel slightly ill but you aren't sure whether it was from that or some imagined effects of the brew.

You arrive before Lady Syl who looks at your curiously.

"You look rather green. Are you ill?"

You think you can hear a trace of concern in her voice but you shake your head. "I'm poisoned," you answer plainly.

Lady Syl's brows furrow in befuddlement. "You're poisoned? Did Ryden tell you that? The potion was just apple juice. Couldn't you tell?"

No actually because you've never had apple juice before in your life or at least, you had it such a long time ago you don't even remember the taste anymore besides which it could've been laced with a tasteless poison for all you know.

"Anyway, Ryden was just making a point… Don't even _think _about betraying us. The Dual Blades do not forgive enemies…"

Dry humor courses through you. You would never do the very thing you hated.

You will not betray your choice therefore you will not betray Lady Syl.

Lady Syl looks at you appraisingly, a glint of approval in her gaze. "The look in your eyes, the lift in your shoulders. You seem ready. Do you wish to advance to Rogue? Once you do, you can begin your _real_ missions."

You voice your decision and your path is set.

* * *

A/N: Tried to make this as realistic as possible with human motives but I think I failed ._.

Tried writing in the stream-of-consciousness format and written in second person point of view to give you a more integrated view of the character so that you get a better idea of their thoughts and hopefully engage you at the same time so you might feel like _you're _going through this. First person wouldn't accomplish this because it would sound more like it was someone else's story instead of "your own." Also, second person allows the conspicuous absence of any reference to your gender or description of what you may look like so that either male or females can fill in the role since this story is supposed to cover Dual Blades in general.

Also tried making Ryden's personality consistent. I think I did fairly well with that.


End file.
